


You are the ocean’s gray waves

by Miyukitty



Series: SASO2016: Grande Road [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, 弱虫ペダル | Yowamushi Pedal
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Fire Emblem Fusion, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Fire Emblem Fates: Conquest Spoilers, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Insecurity, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, SASO 2016, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sweet perfume of blossoms was lost on the third in line for Hoshido's throne. Teshima strained against the taut bowstring of the Fujin Yumi as he took aim. His focused expression was washed in the spectral blue of the spirit bow. </p><p><i>Not good enough,</i> the voice whispered.</p><p>"Not good enough," Teshima echoed without realizing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are the ocean’s gray waves

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SASO2016 Bonus Round 5 theme: Myths and Lore. 
> 
> **Heads up: this fic references Takumi-specific endgame spoilers for Conquest route!**  
>  If you're not familiar with Fire Emblem, a general warning: _this involves spirit possession and declining mental/physical health and it doesn't have a happy ending so advance with caution ;;_
> 
> Thrashing quietly to myself bc I have pedal emblem [headcanons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7139882) and [concept](https://twitter.com/Magepaw/status/729945329672458240) [art](https://twitter.com/Magepaw/status/725800455394054146) and this is literally the opposite of everything I had so I had to remap sohoku as hoshido and hakogaku 2.0 as nohr just so i could do teshima!takumi ??? with retainer!aoyagi for reasons ?_? anyways, "enjoy" 

 

Cherry petals dusted a carpet of blush pink against the grassy field, dappled with warm sunlight where the cloud cover broke overhead. Spring in Hoshido was a sight that inspired many a poet and artist to try and recreate its magnificence on paper, but none could truly capture the effervescent beauty of the season.

  
  
The sweet perfume of blossoms was lost on the third in line for Hoshido's throne. Teshima strained against the taut bowstring of the Fujin Yumi as he took aim. His focused expression was washed in the spectral blue of the spirit bow.

 

He released his arrow with a grunt. Critical eyes narrowed as he watched it bury deep into the wood of the sakura tree.

  
  
_Not good enough,_ the voice whispered.

  
  
"Not good enough," Teshima echoed without realizing.

 

Beside him, Aoyagi quirked an eyebrow. "Junta," his soft-spoken retainer murmured.

  
  
The ninja flitted across the field to the tree in an instant. He made a show of trying to remove the phantasmal arrow, which had bitten so deeply into the wood that the fletching was barely visible. Aoyagi stared back at him reproachfully.

  
  
Teshima sighed.

  
  
"It's not my power," he tried to explain for what felt like the hundredth time. He released the mental image of the arrow, and the glowing shaft evaporated into nothingness, leaving an empty gap in the tree trunk. "It's only because of the Fujin Yumi that I can shoot like that. It was never my strength. I have to keep practicing."

  
  
_But you practice so much, and you're still so weak,_ the voice whispered.

  
  
Teshima's fingers strayed to his temples. His head was beginning to throb again. The cloying scent of the flowers was dizzying, and the uneven sunlight was painfully bright to his watering eyes. He could press on through a migraine, though. It wasn't like the Nohrians would give him any slack on the battlefield because he had skipped out on practice. This was war. If he wasn't strong enough, innocents would die.

  
  
In a heartbeat, Aoyagi was back at his side. Teshima started at the soft touch, then relaxed. A guilty smile replaced the scowl of concentration.

  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. It's just a headache."

  
  
A surprised hum caught in his throat as Aoyagi tugged at the ribbon tying his wavy hair back. He bent over obligingly, and Aoyagi brushed a stray flower petal from his cheek.

  
  
"Take a break, Junta," he whispered, and Teshima reluctantly gave in.

 

* * *

 

Teshima didn't notice the memory gaps, at first.

 

A few minutes here and there, gone in the blink of an eye – he'd just been lost in thought, or caught reading the same passage over and over in his tactical studies, or gotten swept up in the instinctual rhythm of martial arts. The migraines were coming more frequently, but that was a symptom of stress; the healers had bigger problems to deal with than the third prince's headaches. He didn't have time to be sick until after the war was won.

 

Sometimes Teshima felt Aoyagi's eyes on him, observing silently from the shadows as the ninja so often did. He wondered if Aoyagi was tracking the moments that Teshima was letting slip through his fingers like flower petals.

 

* * *

 

Pain lanced white-hot through his skull as Teshima loosed arrow after arrow into the night. Phosphorescent blue blazed across the sky as he hit his mark in midair. A stricken wyvern screeched and toppled to crash into a rooftop with its unlucky rider, a slight youth with a shaggy crop of dark hair and startled red eyes. The light went out as the arrow disintegrated, and the wounded rider was swallowed by inky shadows.

 

Teshima panted, too exhausted to celebrate one enemy down when the skies were still teeming with fliers he could barely see. The Nohrians came down on the town relentlessly, beating the Hoshidan forces back at every turn. Teshima was soaked through with sweat, shaking fingers slippery on the spirit bowstring, but still he mindlessly nocked his next arrow.

  
  
_You can't protect anyone like this. There's too many for you to handle. You're still so weak,_ the voice whispered. _  
_

  
  
He thought he could stop them here. His meticulously crafted strategies were unraveling around him. He thought he was strong enough to hold them off at the bottleneck, but he was weak, always too weak, and the town was lost to the invaders. They had to sacrifice this territory and regroup, but Teshima did not want to admit defeat while they could still fight.

 

His heart caught in his throat as Aoyagi was cornered against a wall. A beast of a man with a mane of green hair forced him to his knees. A frustrated scream bubbled up through Teshima's chest and burst from his jaws as he abandoned his post by the gate, dashing over the cobblestones to try and reach them in time.

 

Aoyagi's golden eyes were locked on Teshima as he surrendered his daggers without making a sound, a fist gripping his hair and a blade hovering at his throat.

 

Teshima drew back the bowstring to cut down the brute and rescue his retainer, but stumbled, forced to an unnatural halt. His fingers trembled from the strain of holding the arrow steady as cold steel kissed the nape of his neck. His skull throbbed suddenly, and he bared his teeth in a wild grimace, wishing desperately that he didn't know whose hand was crushing his wrist.

  
  
"Call the retreat. I don't want to hurt you, Jun-chan," whispered a melodic voice close to his ear. "Please don't force me to."

  
  
"Let Aoyagi go, you Nohrian scum," Teshima hissed, helpless tears prickling hot in his eyes. He turned slowly, as he let the Fujin Yumi go dark.

 

Even through the gloom of night, Ashikiba's towering silhouette was painfully familiar: sleek lines trimmed with dancers' ribbons, a shining pendant nestled against his sternum. There was an immeasurable sadness in the songstress's eyes as he released his hold on Teshima's wrist, and leveled his naginata warily at Teshima's chest. He didn't doubt that Ashikiba knew exactly how to crack his ribs open and plunge the spear into his heart.

  
  
"It's good to see you again," Ashikiba murmured. He was still clad in untarnished Hoshidan white like Teshima remembered him, but that once-pure heart sang for Nohr now. "I wish it didn't have to be like this, though."

  
  
"It doesn't," Teshima snapped. He tossed the unstrung bow at the Nohrian's feet, jerked his chin up in defiance and waited, unarmed and trembling with fatigue, for an execution that did not come.

  
  
"I owe them a debt, Jun-chan. I'm sorry. But you're my enemy now…"

 

It felt like his skull was splintering. He could barely make out Ashikiba's honest apology over the rush of white noise, and fought the urge to clutch at his head in agony.

 

Memories seeped up through the cracks in his mind like rising floodwaters, and suddenly there were brightly colored banners and festival music swirling around them. He was small again, wearing yukata and holding hands with Shikiba, and they laughed and sang as they ran through the streets at nightfall. Colors flashed in the sky; a promise, sealed with a first kiss under the fireworks.

  
  
Teshima clenched his teeth, a strangled whine caught somewhere in his chest as his vision blurred. No – Aoyagi, _Aoyagi_ , he had to focus on the present, he was reeling in the pitch black streets of Cheve and he was losing this battle against the Nohrian army. The past could not be changed; Ashikiba chose to leave, but Aoyagi stayed, Aoyagi was his future, _save Aoyagi._  

  
  
_It hurts to be near you, Shikiba. It hurt since you left. It's unbearable. If I stop you… If I kill you, will the pain in my head go away?_

  
  
The voices rose in a clamor, clawing white-hot through his mind. They drowned out his thoughts with their banshee screaming, and then Teshima was screaming too.

 

* * *

  
  
Teshima woke in the dark to the cloying scent of cherry blossoms. He was in his castle bedchamber with no recollection of how he'd gotten there.

 

His skin was clammy with cold sweat, sticky hair plastered to his face and neck. He patted down his limbs, making sure he was still in one piece. Blinking through the gloom, he could make out the shadowy outline of his bow hung on the wall, his gambeson slung over a chair, his boots near the door. The last thing he remembered was that terrible battle in Cheve, everything going wrong, and –

  
  
_Aoyagi._

  
  
Dread rose like bile in the back of his throat. The Nohrians had defeated them. Aoyagi had been disarmed. Teshima had surrendered, so where was–

  
  
"Aoyagi," he croaked. His voice came out rough, and he coughed when he attempted to force the panicky syllables out louder. Teshima licked his chapped lips and tried again, but he could no longer find his voice.

  
  
A shape seated at his bedside stirred and yawned. Aoyagi mumbled something incoherent in reassurance, voice heavy with sleep, but Teshima didn't listen. He surged forward, flinging his arms around the shorter man and crushing him against his chest in relief. He stroked his fingers through blond hair, shaking and weeping, as Aoyagi pressed soft kisses to his tear-stained cheeks.

  
  
"Calm down, Junta. I'm here," his retainer murmured drowsily. "I won't leave you. I'll always be here. I promise."

  
  
Teshima couldn't stop trembling, even as Aoyagi crawled into bed and patiently comforted him through the night. They were both bandaged, but try as he might Teshima couldn't remember seeing the healers at all. He was gripped with icy fear, the terror that the pressure of war was making him lose his mind. He had to stay strong for Aoyagi, for all of Hoshido. He couldn't give in to weakness.

  
  
_But you are so, so weak, and that's why you're the only one crumbling,_ the voice whispered.

  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Teshima sobbed into the darkness.

 

* * *

  
  
Teshima was afraid to sleep. His duties did not permit him to slack off, not when others looked to him for guidance and protection. He practiced late into the night, pushing his exhausted body to continue forward, to improve, to resist the heaviness dragging him inexorably downward.

 

There was no respite from the pounding in his skull. The constant sensation might have been easier to ignore if not for the insistent voices interrupting his thoughts and tormenting him with memories of Shikiba. He found numbness creeping into his extremities, dulling his sluggish reflexes. He couldn't feel his fingertips anymore, but he could still string a bow and hit a target, so that's what he did. He had to be better, to make up for his failure.

 

He knew Aoyagi was worried about him, even if he never said a word about it. Teshima hated catching those sidelong glances, the lingering stares, the silent judgment. If Shikiba was gone, all of these twisted feelings would go with him, right? He could make this go away. He could take back control. He'd fix this, for Aoyagi's sake.

  
  
Every time Teshima woke, he had to figure out whether he'd gone to bed the night before or if he'd just blacked out again. He couldn't be certain how much of it was real anymore - not when he got lost in the familiar halls of Castle Shirasagi, or forgot to attend the war council with the other nobles, or caught himself talking aloud in response to voices no one else heard.

 

And maybe there was something actually wrong with his body, maybe he was sick, or maybe it was all in his head; he was afraid to know the truth.

 

* * *

  
  
Teshima lay his head in Aoyagi's lap, passively allowing his retainer to card his fingers through his mess of curly hair. He wouldn't sleep, but his eyes were closed.

 

He listened peacefully to birds flitting in the trees around them, the steady rush of running water from the nearby stream, the comforting rhythm of Aoyagi's breathing. Anything was better than listening to the sibilant voices crowding in his head. He was too weary to resist their words any longer.

  
  
Sweet cherry blossoms drifted from above, mingling with the enticing scent of the plum rice balls and grilled pike Aoyagi had laid out for their meal. Teshima had barely eaten in days. Even the few bites of umeboshi he had choked down burned like hot coals in his stomach, twisting his innards into knots. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep it down much longer, but he struggled to will the cramps away, not wanting Aoyagi to catch him gagging. It would only worry him further.

  
  
His body was rejecting everything. Sometimes he burned too hot from the inside, only to be shivering from chills moments later. He couldn't feel his hands or feet. Fever-bright eyes opened and stared blankly up at the sky as the voices stirred.

  
  
_He's coming for you,_ the voice whispered. _Soon, soon this will be over._

 

"Teshima! Teshimaaaa!" shrieked an obnoxiously loud voice. The songbirds took flight as Kaburagi burst into the secluded area, scattering their food carelessly aside.

  
  
" _Lord_ Teshima," Aoyagi corrected snippily. His fingers stilled in Teshima's hair.

  
  
"The Nohrians have breached Hoshido! Prince Koga has fallen! They took him and Danchiku captive, but, but-! They _executed_ his troops at the fort!" Kaburagi babbled, face shock white. "What are your orders?!"

  
  
"Rally the army at the gate," Teshima responded without hesitation. "The Nohrian scum must not be allowed into the capital at all costs. Dispatch a pegasus to Lord Imaizumi for reinforcements. We can… stop them…"

  
  
Teshima attempted to stand, but his body would not comply. He groaned as pain seared through his head, vision blurring. He reeled away from Aoyagi's lap and doubled over as his stomach turned. From a distance he could hear Kaburagi's loud cry of disgust, and Aoyagi's softer noise of distress. A hand rubbed his back in soothing circles, but he could barely register the touch.

 

When he was done retching in the grass, he collapsed at Aoyagi's feet, tears of shame prickling at the corners of his eyes.

  
  
_You're tired_ , the voice whispered. _You're weak. You want this to be over._

  
  
"You're not fit to battle," Aoyagi stated. There was a tremor of fear in his voice that he made no effort to hide.

  
  
"What? I'm the only one who can stop them," Teshima countered fiercely. "Shikiba will be there. It's his fault. They'll lose morale if he falls, if he dies, die, die, you have to die, Shikiba," he mumbled, clutching fistfuls of grass.

  
  
"Junta…"

  
  
Teshima stood slowly, swaying on his feet. Everything was dim, going dark at the edges, even though the sun was shining. He touched Aoyagi's face with cold fingers, numb hand sliding to drop at his side. A sad, bitter smile pulled at the corners of his mouth when he realized he could no longer feel the warmth from Aoyagi's skin. He could fix it. He would fix everything, soon.

  
  
"Don't worry… Hajime."

  
  
_You're tired,_ the voice hissed more insistently.

 

It was right. Then his hands were on Fujin Yumi, but he didn't remember drawing his bow. He thought he could hear Aoyagi saying something to Kaburagi, but he couldn't make out the muffled words. 

  
  
_Give in to me. Sleep, and it will all be over when you wake,_ the voice whispered. _  
_

 

Teshima drew a labored breath, heavy eyelids drooping. He hadn't slept in so long. His limbs were heavy like stone. But it fell on his shoulders to face Shikiba, to stop the Nohrians from overrunning his country, and he couldn't... he couldn't just...

  
  
_"Take a break, Junta," Aoyagi whispered, and Teshima reluctantly gave in._

 

* * *

 

  
 ~ EPILOGUE ~

  
  
  
Aoyagi clutched at his shoulder in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding. His right arm dangled uselessly, shuriken dropping to the ground from paralyzed fingers. He glared at the Nohrians surrounding the gate, their pincer maneuver edging his back against the stone wall. They learned to limit his movements back in Cheve, and he'd been caught in the same trap again.

 

He would not let them reach his liege while he still drew breath. He had a promise to fulfill, even if Junta didn't remember.

 

_I won't leave you, no matter what._

  
  
Ashikiba circled him warily, dwarfing him with his massive height. The ninja grabbed a throwing knife with his left arm and parried the naginata thrust with difficulty. He panted heavily, teeth bared at his assaulter.

 

"For what it's worth, I never wanted to hurt Jun-chan. I still don't," the Nohrian called.

  
  
Aoyagi was saving his breath. He didn't doubt his honesty, but it was too late for apologies. He flung the knife, aiming to hamstring the nimble songstress, but Ashikiba leapt easily out of the way. Aoyagi winced. He wasn't built for endurance battles. Already he was slowing.

  
  
"You love him," Ashikiba announced.

  
  
"So do you," Aoyagi responded simply.

  
  
They paused to catch their breath, sweat dripping and spattering the ground below. Aoyagi pressed his trembling hand to the wound on his shoulder. He couldn't hold out much longer. He'd lost too much blood. The best he could hope for was buying Junta time before they scaled the wall.

  
  
Aoyagi's mouth went dry. He licked his lips, and called softly, "Can you save him?"

  
  
"I don't think there's anything left of him to save," Ashikiba whispered hollowly.

  
  
Aoyagi's heart sank, but he nodded. He knew this already. Knew it in the way Junta ranted in his sleep like a madman, knew it from his hands as cold as a corpse. Junta used to look at him like he was the entire world, and now his eyes slid past like he barely recognized him anymore. He wondered if there had ever been a chance to save his soul, or if the sickness took root so deeply that he was lost from the start.

  
  
"I think," Ashikiba continued, fingering the pendant around his throat, "that I can sing for him, though. I can end this for all of us."

  
  
Aoyagi swallowed around the lump in his throat. This, too, he knew already.

  
  
"Please," he begged. Then Aoyagi dropped his weapons and closed his eyes. He would not break his promise.

 

And as Nohrian steel flashed toward his unguarded throat, he bowed his head and thought back to the first time he'd ever met Junta, third prince of Hoshido. He remembered all the details that Junta no longer could. It was a warm spring afternoon in the shadow of Castle Shirasagi. They were both so young when he made his vows. He did not regret swearing his life in service of Junta, even if it had to end like this.

 

What Aoyagi remembered best about that day was the sweet scent of cherry blossoms scattering in the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> [ ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlr1zMZJqi0)
> 
>  
> 
> ...i wanted to write something sweet and 2k words of suffering later idfk what happened. I THOUGHT THE [HAIKYUU/FATES](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7536937) AU I WROTE WAS DARK BUT HOLY CRAP, WHAT GIVES. I swear I actually love T2. I guess what I love most is suffering.


End file.
